


Tongues Always Pressed To Your Cheeks

by Spoodlemonkey



Series: Playoffs 2019 [2]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Coming out on national television, Crack, Fluff, Getting Together, I am so sorry, M/M, Set in current play offs run, When kisses become good luck charms, Zach and Willy's almost kiss?, so much crack, team fic, this is so self indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-14 20:18:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18483628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spoodlemonkey/pseuds/Spoodlemonkey
Summary: Mitch has broken the internet.





	Tongues Always Pressed To Your Cheeks

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd so any mistakes are my own! So I started writing this, this morning because I was feeling anxious and upset over Saturday nights game, and I just wanted to take that clip of Zach and Willy and wrap myself up in it. I finished it after the game, but decided against changing anything to make it fit with tonight's game.  
> It figures that I finally get around to writing Mitch/Auston and it's complete crack. This is just so self indulgent, I am so sorry.  
> This is still Bruins friendly because I love Patrice Bergeron when we're not facing off against them in the play offs...  
> Title taken from 3oh3, Don't Trust Me. It got stuck in my head while writing this.  
> Don't know, don't own.

“Something you boys want to tell us?” Jake’s all wide grins and big innocent blue eyes. It’s all an act. Behind the guileless grin lies the man who super glued Mitch’s stick to his gloves before practice. He’s _evil._

So of course Mitch’s attention is peaked when Jake has a look like _that._

Willy and Zach seem to be the source of his amusement. A few of the other guys are chuckling, smirking, and Mitch wants to know what the hell he missed. If it’s enough to get them cracking smiles the day after such a humiliating, _painful_ loss, then it’s clearly something he needs to know.

Willy and Zach don’t seem to want to make eye contact with anyone, and Zach is...blushing?

Mitch is invested already.

“What did I miss?” He demands.

Auston drops down next to him, handing over his phone for Mitch to see. It’s a GIF of Zach and Willy and _oh._

“Fucking finally!” He crows, holding out his fist. Auston dutifully bumps it. Zach turns a brighter red. “And at the TD Gardens? Classic.”

Zach clears his throat.

“He didn’t actually _kiss_ me on the bench.”

“I wanted to.” Willy mumbles, slouching further down into Auston’s ridiculously soft couch. A soft, sweet smile breaks across Zach’s face and he pats Willy’s knee. His hand lingers.

“You definitely did later.” Naz, who looks like he hadn’t slept the night before, or the plane ride home, adds. “My room was on the other side of the wall.”

This time, both Zach and Willy flush scarlet at the friendly chirping.

“Apparently Don Cherry lost his shit over it too,” Brownie chimes in. “So, that’s a bonus.”

“I think the _internet_ lost its shit.” Auston’s taken his phone back, scrolling through the comments.

“Do I even want to know?”

“It’s mostly positive.” He reassures Zach. He winces at something he reads and quickly scrolls past it. “Mostly.”

“We’ve got the rest of the evening,” Mo glances at the clock. “We should treat the new couple to drinks.”

“That’s the best idea you’ve had in _ages_.” Jake chirps, getting smacked for his efforts. Willy and Zach are the first ones up to grab their shoes and coats. Mitch doesn’t miss the possessive hand Willy lets rest low on Zach’s back as he follows after him.

“I just want to forget about last night for a bit.” Naz groans. Mitch’s stomach clenches unpleasantly at the thought of the hearing he has in New York the following day. They all need to give their spirits a boost before they face the Bruins on home ice.

He’s sure he can come up with _something._

 

::

 

Four shots of Crown in, he does.

 

::

 

Meeting the Bruins on home ice is like a breath of fresh air.

It’s good to be back in the familiar blue, surrounded by the earth shaking cheers of the crowd. They take to the ice shortly after seven. The anthems feel like they drag on, adrenaline coursing through his veins as he waits at center ice. He glances up, catches Bergeron’s eye. He nods at Mitch. Mitch doesn’t get to return it before the lights are coming up and they’re on the move.

Four minutes in, Enzo scores top shelf over Rask.

He skates by, gets his fist bumps as the arena explodes in a riot of sights and sounds. Mitch waits till he circles back to get onto the bench, waits until they’re passing each other, and then he reels him in and _plants_ one on him.

The crowd _shrieks_.

Enzo looks a little dazed when Mitch pulls back, it’s not like he slipped the guy the tongue or anything, and Mitch shouts over the noise, “Beauty goal!” Before skating off to join Johnny and Zach at the face off.

Zach gives him an amused look but doesn’t comment. Marchand looks like he’s trying hard not to laugh.

The game isn’t as violent as game two had been and it means that Mitch is able to get into the zone, focus on hockey and not whether he’s about to end up with a broken collar bone because of the amount of unchecked _testosterone_ in the building.

It’s still chippy as _hell_ , any game against the Bruins always is, but they manage to pull a penalty and get sent on the power play.

And Mo _scores._

Mitch throws himself at Mo, forcing him to catch him before they both end up on the ice. He cups Mo’s cheeks and kisses him, too excited for any real finesse, just a quick, hard press of their lips.

Mo’s grinning and blushing like an idiot when Mitch lets him go and he shoves halfheartedly at him as the others gather around them to celebrate their lead.

“Planning on doing that _everytime_ we score?” Someone yells and Mitch laughs, feeling untouchable.

They go to intermission with the lead and Babs walks them through what they’re doing right and what they need to fix, back in the locker room.

“Clearly Mitchy’s kisses are working.” Dermott chirps. “Do I get one too if I score?”

Mango elbows him, rolling his eyes.

“If it’s working, keep going.” There’s a twinkle to Babs’ eyes.

Auston doesn’t say anything but Mitch is too caught up in the feeling of being on top to notice.

The Bruins land a goal early in the second and Marchand skates by Mitch.

“Do I get a kiss too?” He chirps.

Mitch thinks about it for a moment, then blows him a kiss. The crowd roars.

The second period he has to focus more on avoiding hits, the series is tied one-one and it shows just how desperate both teams are to take the lead. He narrowly avoids getting boarded by DeBrusk, slips around him and passes the puck to Auston as their lines switch. Auston passes it to Mango who tucks it neatly in behind Rask.

With a cry of delight, Mitch heads right to Mango. He’s met with open arms, is vaguely aware of Auston crashing into his back, hows he’s sandwiched between them. Mango ducks his head and meets Mitch half way, already expecting the kiss. It’s different being kissed _back_ and Mitch’s lips are tingling when he pulls away. He’s a little turned on, from the rush, from the kiss, from the weight of Auston against his back. He shakes the feeling off and turns with the guys to swing by the bench.

They manage one more goal in the third, Mitch sinking one in on a power play.

“Now what?” Mo hollers to be heard.

Mitch shrugs and presses a quick kiss to first him, and then Johnny. They’re the closest to him. A moment later Auston is there, sweeping him up in his arms and Mitch laughs, presses a kiss to his cheek, the easiest part to reach, and clings back.

They win the game.

Kyle and Babs are waiting for them in the locker room when they get in. Babs gives his speech as they settle into their lockers, start stripping off layers and pads and tape, sweaty and sore but elated. Kyle waits until Mitch is down to his Under Armor before approaching.

“I’m proud of you,” he starts and Mitch relaxes a little. He hadn’t known what to expect from their GM, even after a year with him. “But your...public displays of affection have garnered a lot of attention.”

Yeah, it’s something he’d figured would happen. Drunk Mitch hadn’t cared at the time, but sober Mitch had thought about it, and promptly decided _fuck it_.

“I’m going to walk you through what you can say to the media, and later we can come up with more if you plan on continuing.” He rests a hand on Mitch’s shoulder. “It’s really important we get this right. For the fans. It affects a lot more than just the team.”

And yeah, Mitch had _thought_ he’d thought about it, but the stuff Kyle has him memorize is a lot more in depth than he’d ever considered.

Mitch spends what feels like ages talking to reporters. They don’t pull their punches, either. By the time they’re ushered out of the room, he’s exhausted, both physically and mentally.

Most of the guys have cleared out, offering to meet him at the bar later, but he waves them off. His bed is actually sounding pretty amazing right now.

Mitch takes his time in the shower, eyes closed and dozing under the hot spray. He’s a prune by the time he gets out, a towel secure around his waist and hair still dripping. The locker room is quiet, a few trainers still wandering about, the cleaning staff. Auston.

He’s seated at Mitch’s locker and glances up from his phone when Mitch stops in front of him. For a moment his gaze lingers across Mitch’s chest, before slowly making his way up to Mitch’s eyes. Mitch swallows.

“What’re you still doing here?” Auston slides over, giving Mitch space to sit and grab his stuff. He tugs his underwear on under his towel and lets it drop.

“Thought I’d wait for you.” Auston’s back on his phone. Mitch peers over his shoulder to see Mitch Marner is apparently trending on Twitter. “You looked pretty wrecked by the end of the interview.”

“Yeah, man. Who’d have thought coming out during a hockey game would be so exhausting.” He laughs but it sounds a little raw, even to his ears.

Auston’s hand comes to rest, warm and heavy, on his thigh. His thumb strokes once, twice, across his skin. He shivers.

“Get dressed.” Auston pats him, then pulls his hand back. Mitch mourns the loss. “I’ll give you a lift home. Drive you to practice in the morning.”

“Thanks man.” Mitch hurries to comply, throwing on his game day suit and scooping up his bag.

They head out the door to the locker room and pause, thrown by who they find there.

“Hey,” Even outside his rival teams locker room, Patrice Bergeron looks at ease. “Your teammates said you were still here.”

“Did you want something?” Auston takes a step forwards, shoulders squared and ready to face off like they’re back on the ice.

Bergeron levels him with a calm look, then turns to Mitch.

“We caught your interview. A few of the guys wanted to let you know that you have their support. And uh,” Mitch is a little taken aback when Bergeron actually _blushes._ “Any time you want to celebrate _their_ goals, they’ll be there.”

“Oh my god.” Mitch is a little entranced by how _hot_ Bergeron looks when he’s blushing.

“And we’re done here.” Auston takes Mitch by the hand and starts towing him away, towards the parking lot.

“Thanks, I think!” Mitch calls back.

Bergeron waves.

 

::

 

Mitch has broken the internet.

He stays up after Auston’s dropped him off, scrolling through Instagram, Tumblr, Twitter, Google- there are a _lot_ of people with opinions on what he did. Not all of them good. But like, way more are positive than he thought they’d be.

He stays up later than he should listening to Don Cherry have a stroke over it, giggling helplessly and texting Brownie.

He’s a little groggy when Auston knocks on his door the next morning, but Auston’s a literal _Saint_ and presses an extra large Timmies cup into his hands. He dozes on the way in, head pressed against the cool glass and Auston humming along to the radio quietly in the background. He feels warm, content.

Auston wakes him as they get close to the arena.

There’s a crowd as they approach the garage and Mitch is hit with a wave of exhaustion at the idea of having to deal with _more_ reporters this early in the morning.

It’s not reporters, though.

Fans in blue and white and rainbow greet them as they pull through. They wave signs declaring their support, relating to him, pictures of the kisses from last night already printed off and in glossy finish.

Mitch rolls down the window as they pull through, makes Auston slow to a crawl and signs everything he can reach, talks to as many people as he can, before they have to move because of the lineup behind them.

Despite it being the playoffs they open up the practice, let the fans fill the bleachers.

They play three on three for awhile and Trevor slides one by Sparky.

“Do I get a kiss too?” He hollers.

“It doesn’t count against your own team!” Willy yells back and the pair end up tussling on the ice to the delight of the crowd.

Auston drives him back to the Scotia Bank arena after to get his car and then follows Mitch back to their building. This is where they’d normally separate for the afternoon, tired from practice and busy with their own things.

They pause outside Mitch’s door. He’s got his key in the lock but doesn’t turn it yet, strangely reluctant to part. Auston’s got his hands shoved in his pockets, chewing distractedly on his lip. The dark circles under his eyes are more pronounced than ever. Mitch thinks about chirping him for it.

“Wanna nap here?” He asks instead.

Auston shrugs, but the smile he gives Mitch is a little breathtaking.

They end up in Mitch’s bed, the blanket thrown over them. It’s certainly not the first time they’ve done this, they both _love_ cuddles- despite what Auston may say. Mitch ends up sprawled across Auston’s chest, his head resting above his heart, listening to the steady beat. Auston’s hand smoothes along his spine, the touch grounding, comforting.

It lulls him into an easy sleep.

 

::

 

They drive to the rink together the following night. Auston taps away at the steering wheel as Mitch plays DJ, hooking his phone up to the speakers. They break into a duet, singing louder and louder until they’re both basically just yelling to be heard over one another. By the time they get to the rink they’re giggling helplessly.

There’s a decent sized crowd waiting but security gets them through it quickly and they head to the locker room to get ready.

Someone has dug out the pride tape and the guys are gleefully wrapping their sticks. The trainers promise to keep the extra rolls behind the bench so they can rewrap during the game. Mitch gets called out to talk to the media again, along with Auston and Johnny. Naz is out for the first round but he’s down hanging out in the locker room when Mitch gets back in.

“There he is!” He bumps fists with Mitch, then tugs him in for a hug. “I hear you’re our good luck charm.”

“Part of him is, at least.” Kappy chirps.

Mitch flips him off cheerfully.

 

::

 

They hit the ice invigorated by their win monday night.

The Bruins are determined to win it back though, and they play harder, more physical as the night goes on.

It takes them a little to get going but when they do, they _fly._

Almost at the ten minute mark, Auston gets a perfect five hole goal.

The arena erupts in cheers, Mitch can feel the vibrations down to his _bones._ The guys swing by for their fist bumps and then Auston is in front of Mitch. They grin at each other. It feels like the world holds its breath.

And then Mitch gets a hold of Austons jersey and hauls him in for a hard kiss.

It’s short, hot, and even over the roar of the crowd and their teammates, Mitch can make out the gasp it rips from Auston. He feels hot all over, has to let go before he does something _crazier_ than kissing Auston Matthews in front of a stadium full of fans.

Auston looks a little dazed when he pulls back. He licks his lips and Mitch is helpless but to watch, wishing he could kiss him again, _right now._

He clears his throat, ignoring the chirping coming down the bench.

“You’d better score again!” He shouts to be heard.

It seems to get through to him. The dazed expression melts away, a fierce grin in its place.

It sets the tone for the rest of the game.

Auston is on _fire_.

Mitch hasn’t seen him play like this in ages. The Bruins are barely able to touch the puck when he’s on the ice, skirting between them, making them seem even slower. They’re getting frustrated but they can’t _touch_ him.

He scores again at the end of the first. Mitch is pretty sure Rask didn’t even see him coming.

Mitch hops the boards as their lines switch, gets his arms around Auston’s neck and hauls him in for a fierce kiss.

Then he’s off to join the others for the face off, lips still tingling.

 

::

 

The second period is scoreless and they’re still leading going into the third. It’s rougher, dirtier, and call after call gets made. They go through two power plays with nothing to show of it. The Bruins manage to bank one in and McAvoy skates by, blowing a kiss at Mitch. Tempers flare and a few of the guys nearly take each others heads off.

And then Auston gets his third.

Hats rain down.

Mitch swears the building is shaking from the sheer force of the cheers. They spill out onto the ice as the play gets paused to collect the hats. Through the sea of blue and white he finds Auston, tosses his gloves and fists his hands in the front of his jersey.

It’s barely a kiss, they’re both grinning too much, teeth clacking. Auston’s big hands come up to cup his cheeks. The others surge around them and they’re forced to break apart, still beaming.

The rest of the game is a blur but they manage to keep the Bruins at bay.

After, in the locker room, the guys celebrate. Media is eventually let in and Mitch does his part, but they’re more interested in Auston Matthews hattrick than Mitch’s kisses. It’s a weird feeling being old news already.

He strips down and showers, singing along happily with the music blaring from the main room.

“We’re going out, right?” Dermott is covered in soap suds, flicking bubbles at Mango.

“We’ve gotta buy our good luck charm a round!” Gards chirps, glancing at Mitch.

Laughing, Mitch finishes up and heads back out. He gets dressed quickly as the guys leave in groups to carpool to the bar. Auston’s still in the shower so Mitch seats himself at his locker, playing idly on his phone as he waits. He saves a few pictures to his phone, of the kisses, of Auston’s beauty goals.

Auston’s shower sandals and hairy toes appear before him and he glances up, taking in the sight of Auston wearing only a towel, water dripping down his chest. He’s itching to touch.

“Waiting for me?”

“Nope,” Mitch grins up at him. “Waiting for some other super star.”

Auston rolls his eyes. Mitch slides over, making space for him, but Auston doesn’t sit right away. Instead he reaches out, cups Mitch’s cheek, rubs his thumb lightly along his lower lip. It ignites nerve endings Mitch didn’t even know he _had._ He shivers, flushes.

“So, do I have to wait until I score another goal to get another kiss?”

Mitch sucks in a sharp breath.

Auston lets his hand fall, sitting down.

“Maybe not _that_ long.” Mitch teases, twisting so he can get a better look at him.

Auston smirks, catches his gaze and Mitch leans in, pressing a soft, sweet kiss to the corner of his lips.

“Hurry up or we’re leaving you here!” Willy calls from his locker, a knowing smirk on his face. Zach bounces a wad of tape off his head.

“Leave them alone.”

“Yeah, Willy.” Auston chirps. “Listen to your better half.”

“You guys go on ahead.” Mitch interrupts them before they can get going. “We’ll be there soon.”

He doesn’t watch them go, turning back to Auston with a grin.

“Do you _actually_ want to go out?”

“Later.” Mitch tangles his fingers into Auston’s damp hair, tugging him close. “There’s something I wanna do _way_ more right now.”

Auston doesn’t argue when he pulls him in for a _proper_ kiss.

 


End file.
